Low
by IrishCreamTruffle
Summary: This was supposed to be a real story... It really was. But then it just turned into a Shield smut-a-thon. Set the night of Extreme Rules. SLASH. Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins/Roman Reigns.
1. Part 1

A/N: Hey guys! I haven't written wrestling slash in ages, but these boys won't leave me alone. Obvious disclaimer: I don't own Dean, Seth, or Roman, and I don't get paid for writing this shit. I know this; trust me, it keeps me up at night. This thing took on a life of its own, so I broke it into two parts. It's self-indulgent, but I hope you guys are able to feel and enjoy the boys the way that I did when I wrote it.

Suggested Soundtrack for optimal FEELZ: **Stateless** - "Prism #1,"Inescape," "Miles to Go (Instrumental)," "Crash." **Garbage**-"Push It." **Lana Del Rey** - "Serial Killer," "Burning Desire." **Blue Fountain** - "Eyes on Fire." **Fragile State** - "The Facts and The Dreams." **Cracker** - "Low." **Polvo** - "Snake Fist Fighter."

How had they even gotten there? It's hard to remember. And honestly… who gives a fuck?

A heavy gush of air leaves Seth's lungs.

It doesn't go far, though.

Dean's mouth is relentlessly and possessively latched over Seth's. He swallows down the sacrificed oxygen greedily. He's entitled. That breath belongs to Dean now.

Dean's forearm is stiff and unrelenting on the back of Seth's neck. Dean's fist is wrapped cruelly around his own wrist. He can feel the bones shifting back and forth under the pressure of his own fingers as he thrusts up into the endless heat of Seth's body.

Seth, his legs straddled across Dean's hips, digs the fingers of one hand into the sinewy muscle surrounding Dean's sweaty hipbone. The slippery skin is a poor place to attempt finding purchase, but fuck, the trembling and tensing muscle under his fingers just feels so fucking good. The groans that Dean coaxes out of him are strained; Dean's forearm is an unyielding force that holds him close to Dean's lips. The small space doesn't leave a lot of room for the flesh, raw nerves, and bones comprising Seth's neck. The pain from the pressure is dull but resounding at the base of his skull, a broad ache that spreads deliciously down his neck and between his shoulders. Each breath and sound is a struggle to push past his constricted throat. He shivers as Dean pushes the sounds past his lips anyways, his hips pounding up against him without pause.

Seth's strangled groans leave him in stuttered spurts. Dean swallows those down and only thrusts harder against Seth. Those groans belong to him too. They're all his now. But really, if he thinks about it, they always have been. Every whimper, every gasp, every cry, every time. He's not so much kissing Seth as he is devouring him, sucking him down so that that two of them finally just meld into one body. He consumes Seth-fully, gladly, soundly.

Seth has no room to breathe. Dean's sucking down his already shallow and ragged breaths. Seth's chest is hot and tight as he struggles to take in the little bits of oxygen he's able to scrounge between their mingled breaths. Dean's thick cock drives into his prostate restlessly; barbed wire sparks through his veins, forcing even more breath from his already depleted lungs. His head swims warmly and he's so ready-so ready to just be devoured and taken and just-what-fucking-ever Dean has for him. He thrusts down against Dean's cock as much as he can. He already can't breathe… more exertion's a terrible idea, but he can't get enough… can't get deep enough on Dean's cock. He needs to feel it in his lungs, in his fucking brain; he doesn't care if he passes out-he just needs more. He doesn't know if there will ever be enough.

And Dean laughs. He shouldn't be surprised. Dean always finds away to laugh. The sound rumbles down Seth's own throat and into his stomach. He's tense with desire and burning scorchingly hot with deprivation. It vibrates through his entire body, through his cock and through his pores, and Seth whines brokenly. The tension on the back of Seth's neck finally breaks. Seth doesn't have time to contemplate that he's dizzy without the force holding him there. Dean's palm hits him in the center of his chest strongly. Seth thinks that he might hear the clap echo loudly in the near pitch black hotel room.

Dean watches in what can only be described as elation as Seth propels backwards and gasps against the force of his hand. He hears the sound get trapped in Seth's diaphragm. Seth is sitting up straight on top of him now. He thrusts up sharply, gripping Seth's sweaty hips to keep him from flying out of his lap, and the trapped sound effectively flies from Seth's lungs in a raspy scream, a higher pitched sound than even Dean thought possible. Seth's head snaps back with the force, hanging limply, his eyes skyward and his throat exposed. The moonlight creeping in through the window catches the blonde in his hair, tints his skin blue, highlights the goosebumps on his skin even through the sweat dripping down his collarbone and torso. Dean's grip on Seth's hips becomes a claw, and he repeats that sharp thrust again, because he has to see Seth's body jerk like that again, see Seth's cock hitting his own stomach with that same pronounced slap that makes Seth scream _again_. Dean drives his own skull into the pillow beneath him, Seth's scream vibrating through the channels of his brain and thrumming through the entire length of his cock.

Dean's hands slip down, only a bit, to the juncture between Seth's hip and thigh. He has to dig his thumbs into the yielding flesh. Seth whines again, leaning back to rest each hand on either one of Dean's thighs. Dean licks the the taste of Seth off his own lips and swallows it back down into himself. Seth's hair is a curly black and blonde halo around his head. Dean can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest. It's breathtaking, but really… it's funny. Because it's so right. That's Seth. Black and blonde. Good and bad. Naive and depraved. He looks on more, hearing his own hips clap loudly against Seth's ass. Seth's hair is more black than it is blonde. He's more darkness than he is light, more Dean's than he is the world's. Fuck. He just wants to bite Seth's lips right off his face. He could; he really could, but he likes Seth's swollen lips open wide and gasping for breath much better, just the way he looks now. Dean flexes his fingers and pulls Seth down against him. Hard. Balls deep. Seth's mouth opens even further, but no sound makes it out, just a small remnant of a sound trying to escape. From there, Dean pulls Seth hips forward and then pushes those hips backwards, grinding Seth against him. Dean raises his hips upwards off the bed, pushing Seth up with him, impossibly deep now.

Seth's quivering, drawn tighter than a bow, but even in his foggy and vibrating mind, he takes the hint, takes what both he and Dean want. He pushes himself off Dean's thighs, braces one hand on Dean's pecs, one on Dean's ribs. His own hair flies in his face and blinds him outside of black and gold. He digs his fingers into the flesh between Dean's bones, determined to sink into the other man's skin, craving more than anything to grab onto his skeleton and never let go. He rides Dean, full to the brim just like he wants. He grinds his hips backward and forward, lowering back down as Dean's hips rest back on the bed. Seth grinds his hips in desperate circles, figure-eights, trying to feel Dean in every spot inside him. He could cum like this… he could cum just like this. _Oh god,_ he just might. He feels the weight of Dean's balls against his ass as he grinds frantically against the full hardness inside of him, wishes he could take those into his body too. Wishes he could take everything.

"Yeah," Dean rasps, "Just like that. Just fucking," his voice emanates straight from the depths of his throat… Seth can't tell if he's cooing or taunting… he never really can. Dean scrapes his short nails from the delicate hollow in Seth's throat to the small patch of shaved skin right above Seth's cock, a quick swipe that feels like it takes sweet, torturous years. Seth's moan is something bubbled out of his throat. He doesn't bleed, but damn, he's close to it, the long, unbroken path of Dean's scratch marks swelling pink and tall against the rest of his skin even in the darkness… even the gentlest of touches would break the skin apart the rest of the way. _Fuckfuckfuck_, Seth just wants to come apart the rest of the way.

"Dean," he breathes, gripping Dean's pecs like they're his last savior from falling into absolute oblivion. "Dean," he says this like he's going to say something. _What? What the fuck is he going to say?_ He's rubbing his hips against Dean's faster than he knew his body could move. _Fuck_, he's just so _close_, but not close enough. Dean is surprisingly yielding beneath him, pushing up every once in a while to fill Seth as deeply as he can, but letting Seth set the pace. "Dean," he begs from his chest, collapsing on his forearms over Dean. Sweet relief floods over Seth as the rest of their bodies press together again, Seth's swollen cock sliding against the soft ridges of Dean's abs. He presses his face tightly between Dean's shoulder and neck, breathing the salty moisture ravenously, not realizing how much he'd wanted to feel the rest of Dean's body pressed into him until now. He wants to feel Dean's arms wrap around his back with crushing force; that's what he needs; he just wants to be pulled into Dean's body as tightly as possible. He wants Dean to pull him in until their bones give in and they become a heap of one another. He licks the terse muscle connecting Dean's neck and shoulder reverently. "Dean," he groans while mouthing the skin.

Dean's movement is sharp, accurate like a needle point. Sharp and sudden, inhumanly quick. His fist delves into Seth's sweaty mess of tendrils, hand managing to meet _just_ where black and blonde meet. "_What_, Seth?" His voice is a growl. "_What_ is it that you want _so_ bad that you have to keep saying my name like_ that_," Dean's voice breaks as his hips snap up against Seth's, "_over," _Dean's hips snap up again, "and _over_ again, huh?"

"_Fuck, _Dean…" Seth doesn't have any words prepared. He doesn't know exactly _what_ it is that he wants, just that Dean's name is the only comprehensible word that he can utter.

Dean's other hand snakes into Seth's hair. He pushes his hips back against Seth, stilling his movements but pushing into Seth as far as he can possibly go. His fingers are wound tightly into Seth's hair now, right at the scalp, one hand holding onto the black side, the other hand holding onto the blonde side. The force cranes Seth's neck backwards. Seth's breathing is sparse but loud.

He licks up the column of Seth's throat possessively, devouring the ridge of each bone against his tongue. "See?" Dean drags his tongue up Seth's throat and up his chin. He pushes off his shoulders to lap Seth's bottom lip. He sucks Seth's bottom lip into his mouth, pulling it down even as Seth's head tilts back the other way. He doesn't know what the sound is that comes out of Seth's mouth, but he wants to hear it again. He releases Seth's lip, only to catch it between his teeth. It's a definite whimper this time, one that sounds like it comes straight from Seth's fucking _cock_. He can't help but smile, leaning back and letting the weight tug it further. Dean releases, and Seth whines… _Is he fucking disappointed?_ Dean almost forgot where he was going with all of this.

"See_? See?_ You did it again. You said my name like that. Like _that. Again_. You… you said my name like you _wanted_ _something_… what was it that you _wanted?_" Dean's breath is hot against against the protruding vein in Seth's neck with every word. He wants to hear the weakness in Seth's voice. Dean's cock throbs again at the thought, feeling Seth contract and relax against him as he grinds in again. "What was it? You can tell me. You know you can tell me, _right_?"

Dean's taunting is going straight to his cock. Dean's breath against his neck is going straight to his cock. Dean's paralyzing grip on his hair is going _straight to his cock. _He wants to answer Dean. He wants to moan. He wants to scream.

Dean lets go of his hair suddenly and he feels like his head might spin off his shoulders. He's spinning and seeing stars. He goes face first into the pillow right beside Dean's head. He has two seconds to breathe, two seconds to ground himself with the feeling of Dean's chest rising and falling beneath him. There's a growl in his ear, "_No, no, no, no. _I wanna see you. I like when I can see you. "

Dean pushes him up by the hips, pushes Seth up so he sits up straight again. He watches as Seth's enormous dark eyes try to acclimate back into focus. Dean's eyes are inevitably drawn back to Seth's cock, standing straight fucking up, straight against his stomach, balls heavy and round. Dean bites his lip. He tries to decide between the options on the endless list of things he wants to do.

He reaches out to touch Seth's cock. Seth licks his lips and tries to say something. Before he can think of anything, he's pushing in to get closer to Dean's hand. Dean laughs and uses his other hand to brush his own hair out of his eyes. The hand not jerking Seth goes behind Dean's head. "Look at you."

Seth swallows and closes his eyes, the image of Dean stretched out languidly behind his eyelids. He's thrilled and sick to his stomach about the humiliation that's about to ensue. And it is. He knows Dean too well for anything else to come.

But since when is Ambrose predictable?

"Fuck," Dean drawls in that slow way of his, "Just _look. at. you._" Dean's fingers release Seth's cock and feather over Seth's abs, and Seth's eyes snap open. Dean's eyes are pure appreciation over his body.

He wants to beg Dean to get him off. He can't take this much longer. He starts grinding against Dean again. Dean's eyes flare at him. Seth's movement is unsanctioned; fear, dread, and excitement twist in Seth's stomach.

Seth opens his mouth, but a loud click and an acute flash of light on the door derails his train of thought. There's a mechanical buzz, and then yellow light fills the dark room as the door opens. Seth swears he can taste his heart as it leaps up into his throat.

Dean sighs heavily, frustrated. Stupid of him. He didn't mark the door. This is a shared room, after all. His head lolls to face the light. The tall dark frame halts in the doorway, seeming huger than he's ever been. He's a silhouette in the door frame, all long curly hair and hulking frame bathed in gold light. Dean can see pause in his movements, can see the knowing stillness in his muscles even as a shadow.


	2. Part 2

Roman moves a few seconds later, stepping in slowly and closing the door behind him. The door clicks softly shut, but it's a loud sound in the room.

Somehow, now that the light from the hotel hallway isn't flooding into their room, Dean can see Roman more clearly. The moonlight glints off Roman's eyes, unreadable as they always are.

"_Shit!_ Shit, shit, shit," Seth's panicking. His body is trembling with embarrassment. _God, _how does he explain this to his friend? It's _so _unmistakable, him sitting there, as exposed as he could ever be, sitting on Dean's cock and his own cock still harder than a rock. He would never want to be found out like this. He has one second to be relieved that it's so dark in the room, dark enough that Roman can't see him flush red with mortification. More blood drains from his brain and into his cock as the new emotion stirs in with the rest of the chaos inside of him, and he's dizzy again.

"Shit, Roman…" Seth looks around the room, anywhere but at Dean and Roman. "This isn't what…" he stammers, whipping his head as he tries to focus his eyes somewhere, "It's the first time we've…" he pushes to lift out of Dean's lap. His body feels like spaghetti as he begins to rise up, unsteady and vibrating strings of tension, more like sound waves and less like muscle and bone.

Dean's eyes snap from Roman to Seth when he feels the tightness of Seth pulling upward on his cock, breaching under the head. He's flooded and dripping with fury in a second. He grasps Seth's waist. His hands clap against Seth's skin loudly. He pushes Seth back down the full length of his shaft in one swift movement, holds him there.

Seth's moan is twisted between protest and pleasure. "DEAN!" Seth's eyes are wild and panicked, darting back and forth, pupils dilated impossibly, looking like he wants to jump right out the fucking window. He starts swatting against Dean's hands, hitting too hard in his furor and embarrassment and confusion. "Dean, whatareyou-"

Dean's hands snap out to Seth's wrists. He quickly yanks them behind Seth's back. He pulls Seth back down so he's lying flat against his own belly. He lets go of Seth's wrists only to wrap his arms around Seth's back, trapping Seth's arms in the process. Dean locks in by gripping the wrist of his other hand. He nudges Seth's damp hair away from his ear with his nose. "No, no, no, no," he breathes, "you're not going _anywhere_."

Dean's eyes roll over to Roman lazily. Roman hasn't moved an inch. His eyes are still infuriatingly unreadable. He wants a rise out of Roman. He wants to see a flash of-_something_-in those calm eyes. Dean smiles, increasing the constriction around Seth's arms. He shifts just enough to get a better grip on the bed with his feet. Dean winks at Roman, and then begins pounding into Seth in earnest.

Seth starts squirming against Dean, squirming to get away. Dean feels Seth's cock grow even harder against his stomach. He laughs fondly into Seth's hair, _god, how is that even possible? Crazy fucker._

Dean puts an end to the squirming quickly. He pauses his thrusts only to lock each of his legs around Seth's. He starts thrusting again, feeling Seth's body jerk against his like an earthquake even with how tightly bound Dean has him.

Seth's groan is a muffled sound of sweet agony into the pillow next to Dean's head. "Sshh," Dean hushes him. The sound rushes relieving cool air against Seth's burning skin, calming him slightly. He feels like his pounding heartbeat is shaking his entire body. He can't see anything but blackness. Dean's holding him too tightly for him to be able to move anywhere else besides the pillow. "Sshhh, _relax_…" Dean croons again. "Just trust me, huh?" He feels Dean's shoulders relax slightly back into the bed. "Trust _us_." Seth moves his head at that implication, able to get as far as the crook of Dean's neck. He breathes in the salty, familiar skin like a life preserver, "Trust _us_… right, Rome?"

Dean drags out the words, slowing his thrusts as he addresses the still unmoving man across the room. "Right, Rome?" Dean nuzzles Seth's hair, inhaling the heavy, wet strands for a moment. "Seth can trust _us_, right? I mean, I know he can trust _me,_" Dean's eyes are deadlocked on Roman's now. He's pleased that he can see emotion rolling across those eyes now, but frustrated that he can't tell what the emotions are. Yet. "Can he trust _you_? I mean, look at him," Dean huffs a laugh, "he's about as vulnerable as it gets. You wouldn't do anything to hurt him, right?" Dean's voice is complete rhetoric now. "I know _I_ wouldn't. Not like that." Dean's eyes travel down the entire 6 feet and 3 inches of Roman's body, head to toe in black, curly black hair hanging over his shoulders in damp tendrils. Dean licks his lips. "_Nah-_nah, I don't think you would_._" Dean rubs his chin against Seth's temple, "I don't think he would, Seth."

Roman moves forward, footsteps smooth and slow towards the bed. He's only a few inches away from the bed's edge when he crouches down, a stunningly languid and graceful movement for someone of his size. He has an elbow against the ball of each knee, near eye level with Dean.

Dean sees Roman's eyes-_what fucking color are they, anyways?_ _Brown? Grey?_ They're just as indeterminable as the rest of him. Those still, ambiguous eyes are flooding now. Deluging. There are small movements of his thick eyelashes, tension in his eyebrows. Roman's eyes are flooding… but flooding with _what?_ Still so _goddamn _indiscreet.

Dean's thrusting into Seth, torturously long, full thrusts. Seth's groaning, weak and desperate and defeated, into his neck. His body's slack with surrender. Dean can feel him vibrate with occasional tremors. Roman's eyes follow the curve of Seth's back, follow it down Seth's ass and to where his body meets Dean's, lingering there. Dean grins, vindicated.

_Finally_-a tell.

"Wanna watch, Rome?" Dean murmurs, looking up at Roman through his eyelashes. Roman's eyes stall before he meets Dean's eyes again.

Dean's showing off now-thrusting faster but not harder into Seth. Seth whines and squirms to get closer. Dean smirks and flexes, constraining Seth's attempts at movement.

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Hmm? Whadda ya say, Romes?" Dean furrows his eyebrows. It's a comically exaggerated notion of pondering. "Hmm," he releases his hold around Seth's arms, untangles their legs. "Here," Dean's hands are back at Seth's waist, pushing him back upright. Seth's body sways unsteadily. Dean tightens his grip to ground him. "There we go," Dean's satisfied. "That's better. Let him look at ya, Seth."

Seth's eyes widen. He doesn't have Dean's shoulder to hide in now. He looks at Roman out of the corner of his eye. Seth's whole body is heaving. His cock is leaking now. He's turned on and humiliated and absolutely exposed. Dean massages his hips and it's a small comfort.

Dean's eyes are back on Roman. He regards the straight graceful line of Roman's nose, regards his eyes glowing silver in the moonlight. His eyes continue to Roman's lips, full and smooth, mesmerizing. He's a striking man, he really is… "Or maybe you wanna join?" Dean's voice isn't much more than a whisper now. Roman's eyes don't waiver from Dean's now, smoldering fog rolling across the his eyes over and over again.

Dean reaches up, pressing his thumb to Roman's bottom lip because… because it's an urge and he wants to. Dean's eyes light up as he gently rubs across Roman's lower lip. Dean bites his own lip as he follows his thumb with his eyes. "There's room for three, you know…"

Roman's eyes flash. Dean's flash back at him in response, a coil in his stomach tightening, finally seeing the reaction that he's been _craving_. He pushes his thumb against Roman's lips harder now, rubbing back and forth over the fullness, feeling wetness touch his fingertip as he teases the seam of Roman's lips. Roman's eyes are blazing now, and Dean doesn't know whether he's going to get punched or kissed. He could get off on either one, really; he thrives on the thrill boiling hotly in the center of his chest.

Dean watches as Roman pushes back onto his feet, back to his full height. Dean licks his lips and glances up to Seth. Seth's looking directly at Roman for the first time tonight, eyes wide and body tense again with nerves. Seth's still not meeting Roman's eyes, but Dean smirks when he sees Seth's eyes fixated on Roman's chest, sees him chewing on his bottom lip. Seth even rocks gently in his lap, seemingly by instinct. Or maybe it's an invitation. Dean can't help a full smile at this. _Slut. _

Dean's fully ready to comment on it too, but Roman's fingers catch his eyes, hovering at the hem of his shirt. Roman quirks an eyebrow at them, and then he's pulling the garment over his head. Seth sighs and starts rocking slightly faster on Dean's cock. Dean's eyes go slightly wide, and his attention moves back to Seth. _He's goading him. The fucker's goading him. _Seth's eyes are fixated on Roman now, watching his every movement ravenously. His big brown eyes are still edged with fear, but they're getting hungrier by the second, unblinking as he watches Roman's hands move to his belt buckle. Dean's endlessly pleased as he sees Roman's pants fall to the floor, the evidence of Roman's reaction evident in the front of his briefs. He licks his lips as the briefs join the pile of black on the floor. He digs his fingers into Seth and the blood rushes his veins like a tidal wave.

Roman steps forward and kneels over Dean's legs on the bed, directly behind Seth. The dip in the bed under his weight is pronounced. Seth pauses and holds his breath as he feels Roman… do nothing… behind him, only feels the radiating heat from Roman's chest. His stomach flares up with nerves and excitement.

Roman's lips touch his spine, right where the lettering begins, and Seth nearly jumps outside his own body. Seth shivers as Roman's tongue slowly drags up his spine, his beard tickling the wet flesh on the rest of his ascent. One of Roman's large hands curls around Seth's throat, his palm heavy against the sensitive column of bones in front. The hand's not squeezing, just steady and present as Roman noses Seth's hair aside to suck at the base of skull. Roman's mouth is full and strong against the obscenely sensitive bundle of nerves at the base of his neck. Seth gasps, dizzy for the countless time tonight. Roman's grip on his throat tightens, still not constricting, but unyielding. Roman's tongue is swirling in the dent connecting body to head now, the circles calm and unhurried. Seth feels time slow down; his body's been all thrumming energy and chaotic nerve endings the entire night, moving at the speed of light and whipping him along for the ride. Roman's chest presses flush against his back now, the skin cool and dry and comforting against his own burning skin.

Time's crawling as Roman mouthes up the side of his neck, over his earlobe, and across his jaw. Seth loves and hates when he's flying on endorphins like he's been tonight-loves that he hates it, hates that he loves it-loves feeling it all roll into one and send him in the air, soaring. He loves how every cell in his body feels alive. But he hadn't realized until now that he's also craving something unmovable to grasp at, something to steady himself, something that won't break apart when he explodes. He craves Roman.

It's a different desire clawing in the pit of his stomach now, a slow burn, very clear and very discrete, soothing him in its languid, rumbling approach, encompassing him one nerve at a time. Roman's free hand moves to Seth's jaw, pulling their faces together. It's the first time he's made eye contact with Roman all night. His eyes are hot with desire but calm like water. Seth nuzzles in as much as his positioning allows, wanting to be closer to how those eyes make him feel. Roman nudges Seth's nose with his own. It's a warning shot. Roman's lips close over his with finality. Seth groans. Roman's lips are full and firm and grounding. He strains against their position to kiss him deeper, wanting to sink further into him, wanting to be devoured by the slow, commanding movement of Roman's mouth against his.

White hot pain sears through his nipples, and Seth keens, breaking away from Roman's mouth with a gasp. There's another rhythmic shift, and desire's moving at a blinding speed again, hot through his nerves and seducing him in a blurry, vibrating swarm. He looks down to see Dean, his hand still raised from the movement of his slap to Seth's nipples. Dean's impishly biting his lip, eyes both soft with wildness and hard with calculation. Seth grinds impatiently against Dean now; he's ablaze and he needs to feel Dean's cock pounding into him so hard that room caves and collapses on them.

Dean's bites his lip harder, consumed by dichotomy of Seth's furious grinding and Roman mouth laving along Seth's strained neck, unhurried, like not one thing in the fucking world could rattle him. If Dean had to choose between which movement he'd rather see, he probably couldn't; they way they work together is mesmerizing. Roman releases Seth's throat, his hands disappearing somewhere behind Seth. From behind his own long curls, Roman's eyes shift to Dean's as he continues sucking the tendons of Seth's neck. Roman's dark eyes don't flicker for a second, pierce into him and pin him where he lies. Seth's frustrated grunting is resounding through the room now, desperate and broken, shaking both Dean's and Roman's bodies with the force. Dean licks his lips and devours the scene in front of him. His own cock is throbbing and he can't lie still like a good boy forever.

Suddenly Seth's movements halt, and Seth growls this time, really growls, an angry sound.

_The fuck?_ Dean's mind is stormed-

Until Dean realizes that Roman has looped one of his arms through both of Seth's, his movement sudden and concise and inescapable, locking those arms behind Seth's back, almost fully constraining his movement. Dean's washed over with elation, watches as Roman's other arm snakes around Seth's waist, the arm almost looking inhuman as the moonlight catches the intricate lines of Roman's tattoo. Roman's hand brushes down Seth's heaving stomach, a straight path to his dark and dripping cock. Roman's eyes narrow, silver again in their intensity, impossibly focused on Dean even in all the commotion.

"Make him cum."

It's the first thing Roman's said all night; he rumbles more than speaks the words, and it takes Dean a second to comprehend. Dean then smirks, enjoying how the deep voice vibrates in his brainstem. He shrugs and slaps Seth's nipples again, grinning at Seth's broken squeal. "Shouldn't be hard."

Roman's hand wraps around Seth's cock and Dean takes that as his cue to begin pounding into Seth again.

Seth would have folded over at the waist if it weren't for Roman's force keeping him upright. Seth's body is rattling with the force of Dean's thrusts; the whole bed is, actually-even Roman's solid body is jostling behind him. Roman's hand is strong and relentless on his cock, strokes long and straightforward, encompassing his entire length in record time, a warm pressure on the head of his cock with every downward stroke.

"This is what you want?" Roman's low hum is hot silk against his ears, and Seth writhes and whines, writhes to get closer to Roman's voice, to his hand, to Dean's cock, to everything at once.

"_God, yes! _Fuck!" Seth cries as he bucks against everything he can touch, "fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Seth's cumming in thick spurts, muscles quivering and thighs trembling as Roman's hand keeps working him. Dean's cock plunges into him, stilling once he's at the hilt, watching Seth shatter into pieces.

Dean can't help but watching in a certain kind of fascination as Seth _keeps_ shooting. Roman's hand is consistent and patient on Seth. Seth's howling now, squirming as he's drained for every bit inside of him. Roman's eyes flash at him over Seth's shoulder, and before Dean knows it, Roman has re-aimed Seth's cock just slightly, intensified his pumping just a little more, and Seth's final releases are landing on Dean's lips and chin.

Dean laughs and grinds his own body into the mattress restlessly, partially pissed and partially turned on by Roman's brazenness. _Smug fucking bastard_. He licks Seth's taste off his lips and arches his back as Seth's final contractions squeeze him deliciously. Dean pulls at his own hair, feeling the stinging glory of strands leaving his scalp and tying around his fingers.

As Seth comes down from his orgasm, head lolling weakly against Roman's shoulder, Dean grips his waist, fully intent on fucking that tight ass of his until both of them are purple.

Roman slaps Dean's hands away and gingerly lifts Seth off Dean's cock, tossing him on the other side of the bed as if he doesn't weigh over 200 pounds. Dean's blind with fury, and he sits up so fast that the room spins, but he doesn't care. He's face to face with Roman, one hand clutching the broad shoulder, the other curled around Roman's ear, short fingernails digging in. He looks over at Seth suggestively, then back at Roman: "I'm not fucking done-"

And Dean's flat on his back faster than he can blink. "You're goddamn right you're not." Roman's hovering over him now, eyes narrow and holding him in place. Roman's eyes soften again, balancing himself on one forearm beside Dean's head. He runs the fingers of his other hand through Dean's matted hair, pushing the unruly strands off his forehead. "Calm. Down." Roman's steady fingers in his hair make his scalp tingle, and even he finds it hard not to follow the order, his heartbeat slowing and the fog in his brain clearing in time with Roman's stroke on his scalp.

Roman's fingers leave Dean's forehead, dipping down slowly to remove the condom from Dean's rigid cock. He tosses it aside carelessly. Roman looks around for a moment, eyes finally settling on a bottle of lube. He grabs it and tosses it to a still wide-eyed and heaving Seth. Roman murmurs and holds his free hand out to Seth, "Help me out a little, would ya?"

Seth stares at Roman for a moment, dumbfounded but without a fucking doubt turned on by the sight in front of him. Roman raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, and Seth shakes it off and squeezes a generous amount of lube into Roman's palm. He massages it into Roman's entire hand, over every finger, honestly unsure of _exactly _what Roman is planning and _exactly_ what Dean will allow. Roman shoots him a quick, grateful smile, and Seth feels deliriously stupid when his stomach flutters in response.

Before Dean can ask, Roman leans down to kiss along Dean's jaw line, tongue laving over what Dean realizes is Seth's cum on his chin. Roman's slicked hand grips Dean's cock, stroking gently- toofucking_ aggravatingly gently_ for how hard Dean's cock is. Dean growls and arches up into Roman, aware that their bodies aren't touching, fully and suddenly consumed with rage over the fact, "C'mon… just fucking…"

Roman's hand goes down further, to Dean's balls, rolling them in his palm, massaging them between his fingers, slowly and surely. Desire's hot throughout Dean's body now, but it's flowing and washing over him consumingly, caressing him and soothing him, firm and unmovable. The pads of Roman's fingertips are brushing the skin at the very base of his balls, back and forth, so light it almost tickles. Roman keeps sucking at his jaw, and Dean gasps, desperately wanting to get closer to that hand, wanting to feel more of its constant pressure against him.

The fingers retreat lower, pressing against Dean's hole, caressing the rim with their warm slickness. Dean laughs, nervous and recoiling just a bit, even as his nerves spark excitedly at the touch and his cock jumps against his stomach, "Oh, I don't fucking know," Dean breathes, "I haven't done _that_ in a long time… in a _long_ fucking time-"

Roman brushes his nose against Dean's and breathes into his mouth, "You will for me."

Roman's not asking, and he's not accepting arguments. Dean's angry again, the sensation dull and rumbling in his belly. _Fucking presumptive bastard_.

"I'll make you feel so good," Roman coos sweetly against his lips, and then his mouth covers Dean's, sucks the protest straight from his throat. The rest of Roman's weight finally rests on him, heavy and reassuring. It's almost crushing as Roman puts his full weight on him, sliding against the pool Seth's cum on his belly, spreading it between both of their torsos. Roman's finger is firm against him, circling his hole, pressing but not pressing _in_. Dean groans and presses up against the insistent weight of Roman's body, noticing Roman's cock now, thick and hard against his stomach, the head digging softly at his navel.

Roman pulls away from him, and Dean can breathe for what feels like the first time in hours. His lips press into Dean's softly one more time before he pulls back completely. He motions to Seth again, holds out his hand, and Seth eagerly rolls back over. Seth's still spent, but clearly enraptured, eyes on Dean and Roman with hawk-like focus. He coats Roman's hand again, paying special attention to get Roman's fingers particularly slick. Roman pushes back on his haunches so he's sitting up straight again.

Roman smiles fondly at Seth's devotion to the task. The fingers of his other hand tangle in Seth's hair, drawing him in for another kiss, brushing the scar tissue on the back of his neck tenderly. Seth keens softly and returns the kiss. Roman pulls away, smiles at Seth one more time and pushes him back down on the other side of the bed, almost playfully.

Roman leans back over Dean, slick hand disappearing between their bodies.

"Back to you," Roman's voice is a gentle scold.

Dean's ready to rebel in a second; it's a knee-jerk reaction. He can taste the insult on his tongue, but Roman's full lips are back on his, and Roman's middle digit is pressing into him.

So.

Fucking.

Slowly.

Each knuckle breaching him makes his breath stick in his throat. He can't describe the sound that comes out of his throat when Roman's finger buries in him completely. _Fuck._ He'd forgotten how much he missed this. He's sensitive as he can ever remember being. Roman works the finger in and out of him, his soft lips soothing anchors as he revels in the sensation. There's a second finger added, and the rest of the blood in his brain has drained straight to his cock. He's bucking against Roman's fingers, both hands firm on the back of his neck, clutching and pulling, much harder than he knows he needs to. He's somewhere in between worshiping Roman's steadiness and wanting to claw it away with all his might, making Roman as raw and vulnerable as he is right now.

So Dean goes with his instinct and lets him have it. Roman doesn't give as Dean digs at him. Dean starts nipping at those soft lips of his and starts digging his nails into the back of his solid neck, starts bucking against him with enough strength that both of them are rocking, that the bed frame is knocking against the wall with loud snaps. Roman just kisses Dean harder, and somehow it's more comforting than it is dominating.

Dean pulls away with a gasp and a cackle and god knows what the fuck else. He's a complicated mix of frustrated and soothed. "Jesus fuck, Rome-would you just-" he growls out again, no idea where he's actually going with this. It doesn't matter; there's no time to think, because Roman's hand pushes in as far as it can go and vibrates. Dean can feel the pressure so close to his prostate… it's so close but just _not quite_ there and he screams this time.

Roman leans his forehead against Dean's, "C'mon, Dean…" he rumbles softly at him, exasperated. He presses kisses on each of Dean's cheekbones, his free hand back at Dean's hairline, twirling a damp piece around his finger.

Dean feels suddenly ashamed at his lash out, guilt and arousal curling together uncomfortably in his stomach. Roman's hand in his hair is comforting, brings him back to earth.

He arches into Roman again, the fingers thrusting in and out of him making him feel so unusually full but not full _enough. _"I just-" he pushes off his shoulders, captures Roman's lips briefly before he continues, "I just-" he grasps and squeezes at Roman's sides, the muscles unyielding against his fingers and he sighs, slithers against Roman, partially satisfied and partially defeated, "I just fucking _need you._"

The hand of Roman's resting arm curls under Dean's neck, pushing him up the short distance between them and kissing him hard. Seth doesn't need a cue this time. He kneels behind Roman, pressing a soft kiss into the back of his tense shoulder, and rolls a condom onto his cock. He moans softly against Roman's spine as he feels the shaft get even harder against fingers, feels the groan vibrate in Roman's back. He smears lube over Roman's cock, coating it as heavy as it will take.

Roman's fingers leave Dean's body, and he repositions, steadying his arms and pushing forward so each one of Dean's knees is hooked in his elbows. Seth's other hand pushes through their bodies and grasps Dean's hip, firmly holding him still. Seth holds Roman's cock as he pushes forward, steadies it against Dean's entrance as Roman pushes inside.

Dean can't think of a time he's been stretched so tightly, been wound so tensely, but he also can't remember a feeling of relief as sweet as the one he feels now, as Roman's slow glide comes to a hilt inside of him. He groans into Roman's mouth, hoping that Roman can feel it in his lungs. Roman rocks into him slowly, short inward presses that gently nudge his prostate.

Dean tears his mouth away and grabs Roman's head, grips his hair from the roots, tightens his fist around the tendrils, feeling them give satisfyingly in his grasp. He's making a conscious effort not to pull, but fuck… _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ He can't _do_ this anymore. He needs more. His cock is so hard; he feels like each vein has popped out and grown a life of its own, and these gentle wisps over his prostate are only making him harder.

There's a brief moment of horror when Dean realizes he's trembling… shaking like a fucking leaf, actually. He meets Roman's eyes. Dean's trying to be patient this time; he _really_ is.

"I'm gonna need more than that," Dean grinds out.

He pushes up on Roman's cock to illustrate his point. Roman releases one of his legs. His freed arm pushes through the mess of arms around their heads, bearing his forearm down on Dean's throat. He's not cutting off Dean's air supply, but he's pressing down hard enough to paralyze his movements.

"You'll get more," Roman guarantees, voice expelling from him in a surprising low and inpatient snap. His eyes are glinting, dark and zoomed in sharply like knives. "Now, relax. I'm not gonna risk hurting you."

Roman takes his arm away, but the brief flash of Roman's temper rolls through Dean and shoots straight up his spine. A break-a real fucking _break_ in that impenetrable shell. It's almost as good as getting what he needs. He needs to feel the all the power in Roman's body, restrained and dormant in his bloodstream. He needs to feel Roman use it on him, needs Roman's cock fucking him straight through the mattress and into the box spring.

Roman thrusts into him slowly a few more times, and Dean runs his fingers up the broad back. The muscles are trembling underneath his fingers, groans low against the shell of his ear. He buries his face in Roman's neck and breathes him, savors the victory of Roman's control slowly crumbling. He digs his fingers into Roman's back, too excited and unable to resist the urge.

Roman's forearms brace on either side of his head, long, heavy thrusts of his hips that force Dean to rise and fall with him.

_God, fuck, _it's so good. It's so fucking good, but Dean's over the edge, ripped wide apart, and he needs that extra push now, more than just Roman fucking him and squeezing every drop of cum out him with those strong hands. He wants every ounce that Roman has to give, wants Roman clawing and desperate for release just like he is.

"C'mon, Rome… more, more, more… I can take it," Dean puts a hand on each of Roman's shoulders, pulling himself up, making Roman bear his weight as he meets Roman thrust for thrust.

Roman growls and starts thrusting harder. Dean wraps his long legs around Roman's waist, squeezing tightly as he thrusts up against him eagerly. Dean's cock is pulsing and throbbing. Roman's layers are peeling back for him, fucking him deliciously, even as he supports most of Dean's weight, but Dean needs more to feed on.

He only takes a second to contemplate his next move. There will be consequences.

He loops one hand around Roman's neck, and the other one slaps Roman in the face. It's a love tap at hardest, and he knows it will anger Roman more than a real slap ever could.

Roman's eyes blaze and there's no turning back. One arm goes around Dean's waist, pulling Dean up with him as he sits up. His other hand slaps Dean across the face, succinct and authoritative. He cinches Dean's jaw between his fingers jaw and growls in his ear, "You really just couldn't resist, could you?"

Roman's hips are pummeling against his ass, pure adrenaline helping him hold Dean up now. Dean's eyes roll back for a moment, and his head jerks as Roman lets go of his jaw to brace his other arm around Dean's waist. Dean buries his fingers back in Roman's curls and pulls their faces closer together.

"Fuck Rome, I just need you," Dean purrs again, "I just need you like this. I need fucking _all _of you. I need you to give me every fucking ounce of everything you have."

Roman growls again and closes the small space distance between them, devouring Dean's mouth. His strength finally gives and he drops Dean back on the bed. His hips don't lose rhythm and he's pushing Dean's legs back, pushing in deep as humanly possible with every thrust.

Dean shifts his hands in Roman's hair anxiously, bundling up as many of the curls as he can. He's right there. He's right fucking there.

"Rome," Dean groans. Roman's sucking bruises onto his neck now. "Rome? Look at me," Dean husks. Roman pulls off him, meeting his eyes, finally unleashed with passion but still comfortingly the same in their unconditional acceptance. "I'm so fucking close," Roman's particularly hard thrust makes his voice break, "I need you to cum with me. Fucking cum with me. I don't wanna fucking do it without you."

Dean didn't know mania, relief, lust, and comfort could blend like this, but that's exactly what he feels when Roman smiles a little at him, swiping away a rolling bead of sweat from Dean's forehead.

Roman's hand wraps around Dean's cock, jerking hard, warm and strong and constricting. Dean pulls Roman's head back down, needing to taste his mouth again. Roman's cock is a relentless drum against his prostate, and Dean can't stop his body from spasming. Roman's cock is pulsing inside Dean, and Dean finally lets go, feeling Roman let go with him. Roman's cock and hand drive him through orgasm, not stopping until they're both covered in cum, until Dean's final tremor has run through his body.

Dean realizes he's still shaking as Roman's thrusts slow and finally come to a smooth halt. He's just brushing his lips against Roman's now, pawing at his sides like a kitten-it's all that's left in him. Roman's heaving above him, waves and waves of body heat permeating into Dean's own skin.

Dean feels eyes on him, and he pulls away from Roman's mouth. The air feels cool and foreign on his lips. He's swimming, using Roman's body to steady himself, trusting the rhythm of Roman's fingertips against his hair line to dictate the speed of his breaths.

His peripheral vision catches Seth watching them, and he turns to look at him. Seth's lying on his side, body languid and exhausted. There's a mix of concern and arousal on his face. Dean expects his skin to crawl at the look, but he's overtaken by how fond and sympathetic he is. He reaches over briefly to caress Seth's bottom lip. "Yeah, I get it now, you little fuck."

Seth smiles brightly, and Dean's enchanted by how it lights up his face, how it drowns out the apprehension in a second. Seth rolls onto his stomach to kiss Dean, and Dean can't remember the last time he felt _light_ like this, tingling and floating.

The mattress lifts with the removal of Roman's weight, and Dean rests his hand on Seth's cheekbone, runs his fingers through his beard.

In what feels like a second, there's a warm wet cloth gently sweeping against Dean's stomach. He pulls away to see Roman bent over him, focused on wiping him clean, black hair obstructing his face. Dean swats at the curls playfully, and Roman's eyes regard him warningly. Even through the veil, Dean can see the humor in his eyes. Dean's stomach feels fuzzy and warm, and Dean can't help smiling at how wonderfully stupid he feels.

He rolls on his side and pulls Seth into his chest, kissing the top of his head quickly before resting his chin there. He closes his eyes, and he swears to God he can hear Roman shake his head:

"Jesus Christ, you guys…"

And with that Roman's weight is behind Dean, an arm tightly around his waist. Dean's silently grateful for the pressure of Roman's body behind him, steadying and lulling.


End file.
